We made it through the night
by Sweet-rush37
Summary: Stand alone from Woodys POV


Title: We made it threw the night

Summary: Post "Bad Moon Rising" Woody reflects on his life before Boston. Stand Alone

Disclaimer: I don't own crossing Jordan, nor do I own "Forgiveness." By the talented Patty Griffin.

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_We are swimming with the snakes at the bottom of a well_

_So silent and peaceful in the darkness where we fell_

_Well, we are not snakes and once more we never will be_

_If we stay swimming here we never will be free_

He could hear the music mingling with the smell of ice and hot chocolate. Jordan chatted happily, she had no idea. Handing her a steaming cup of coffee. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Woody everything okay?" she asked genuinely concerned.

_I heard them ringing the bells in heaven and hell_

_They got a secret their getting ready to tell_

_Its falling from the sky its calling from the graves_

_Open your eyes boy, I think we are saved_

_Open your eyes boy, I think we are saved_

"

I'm okay." He lied, nothing was okay, he was so alone, a cold empty feeling entered him and blurred his vision and haunted his memories. He wanted to go home, and not back to his cold, lonely apartment. He wanted to look in the mirror and see more than the shell of a man who could have been. He wanted to spread the ashes of his life around and let go of his past, let his wounds heal. He didn't remember much of his mother. He was only four, barely old enough to remember anything at all, but he remembered her. The way her hair smelled. Like peaches and cream.

He remembered staying up late at night, sneaking down the stairs quietly, watching out for the one squeaky step that always gave him away. He'd sit while she curled up on the couch with a throw blanket, and she'd sing. She'd sing songs of life, songs of death, songs of heartbreak and love. As it got near the end she couldn't even sit up anymore, wires and tubes entwined everywhere. Livid bruises and welts where the needles jabbed into her slender arms. When it got that bad, she let Woody and Cal curl up with her, and she'd sing them to sleep.

That was the last memory he had of her, her singing them to sleep, a soft song of life and death, heartbreak and love. When he woke up, she was cold... although then, he didn't know what it meant. Often afterwards, he'd lay back in the lazy days of summer, under the shade of a sycamore tree, on a hill that overlooked the insignifagant farm house that seemed abandoned and falling apart, its white paint chipped, the screen door holding onto its hinges by mere chance. But in those lazy days of summer, when it was surrounded by paw-paws and rooster heads, and rolling hills of sweetgrass. The smell of wild roses drifting in on the breeze. He'd replay that song in his head, and remember her voice, and the smell of her hair.

_Lets take a walk on the bridge right over this mess_

_Don't need to tell me a thing baby, we've already confessed_

_And I raise my voice to the air and we were blessed_

_Its hard to give_

_Its hard to get_

_But everybody needs a little forgiveness_

His father met well, and he tried, but Woody knew better than to cross him. He got angry easy. Its not that he didn't love Woody or Cal, but they reminded him of the woman that he had loved, and lost. He came apart easy, soon he barely came home at all. Woody became accustom to spending his nights with his brother, alone. Woody became attached to his brother, becoming overly protective. He had to, if he didn't they would have been lost. He learned fast that if his father said anything to listen, for if the slightest thing was wrong he would get boxed in the ears. All that Woodrow Wilson Hoyt's father ever told him was that he was weak, and he had no reason not to believe him. As the years rolled by, Woody grew, not into the boy that his father would be proud of, the opposite. He wasn't the best son in the world, not the football star, not the class president... just a kid, in desperate need of a friend.

Then he met her, Annie Cody, spitfire redhead with crystal blue eyes and an attitude that Woody found a challenge. While most girls were dreaming of settling down and having a family, Annie was dreaming of Paris, and New York. While most girls were going out on dates and out to movies, she was saving her money to leave.

For the first time in his life, Woody felt like he had something real with someone, someone would finally love him. His already fragile life, came crashing down around him in an instant.

_We are calling for help tonight on a thin phone line_

_As usual we're having ourselves one hell of a time_

_And the planes keep flying over our heads no matter how loud we shout_

_And we keep waving and waving our arms in the air but we're all tired out_

Woody remembered the morning well, he was sixteen years old, still a child, but so grown up. Cal was still alsleep in his room. Woody was always an early riser, up at dawn and to bed by midnight. It wasn't unusual for Woody to wake up to an empty house, in fact it was _common_ for him to be alone. There father was sick and would often go by the saw-dust-on-the-floor establishment after his rounds. Sometimes he wouldn't be home for days... The family fell apart that day her voice died away, when his mother left, when the music died.

The airy room was washed in sunlight, still, beautiful sunlight... bits of disturbed pollen hung in the air like dust in the sun. He knew, today would be different, if only he knew.

He stared out of the kitchen window, staring at the rolling fields of yellow grass that swayed in the wind, still heavy with dew. The scent of the wild roses, and paw-paws and roosterheads. The old dirt road that stood imposing like an ancient highway it seemed endless and ageless. He had to make his brother breakfast, get him up and dressed for school. He picked up his homework off of the small fifties style kitchen table. Setting the geometry book and English on the counter next to the keys to his truck, the keys to his freedom.

It had been so long since he felt the safety of his mothers arms, the only person that ever told him that he wasn't a failure... that he wasn't alone. If he closed his eyes for long enough, sometimes he could feel what it felt like to run his small hands threw her hair.

He set out the bowls, milk, cereal, sugar and orange juice. All that was left to do was wake up his sleeping brother. Then he saw it, the line of dust being kicked up by the wheels of a ford four by four. He could see that it was Annie's father, the deputy, he wondered why he was there, Annie? His mind whirled with what could have happened.

_I heard somebody say that today is the day_

_A big ole' hurricane, she's moving are way_

_Knocking down all the buildings_

_Killing all the lights_

He didn't move until he heard the clatter of a knock against the screen door. Often Woody would keep the door open in the morning to let in the brakish morning light and the sweet, chilly breeze.

"Woodrow, get out here... its your daddy." No matter how much he had hated the man at times, how much he had dreamed of leaving. Those words left a hole inside him that would never be filled.

He remembered how weak the man laying in the hospital bed. He was ashamed that he actually felt angry at the man destabilized man lying there. He recalled asking him who was weak now? Who was the weaker species? But in the end, Woody couldn't remain mad at him, he stayed, right up to the point where his breathing grew labored and finally died away... he remembered just sitting there his head down, resting against the railing of the bed. Listening as the steady beeps of the heart monitor grew flat. Listening to his entire world die with the man that instilled in him a sense of pride that he couldn't shake. He remembered it being cold, too cold for march. In the end, his father was bested by some eighteen year old punk, and all the kid got for it was sixy-three dollars and a pack of cigarettes.

Annie, She stayed with him, even if her father disapproved, yelled, she remained. She read him magazine articles and stories of far off places like she used to when they were little, her voice soothing like an ointment on a raw, sore wound that never really healed.

He actually felt weak then, and he knew he shouldn't feel that way, but he did. And from that second on, he vowed, he would never be labled weak again.

Leviathan had said the wrong thing, for the first time in close to eighteen years, Woody let a feeling awfully close to weakness seep in the hard shell he disguised as naivety. Leviathan had put it in words, Woody couldn't handle it.

Woody went back to school, worked harder and got excepted into Wisconsin University... before he knew it he was a cop, moonlighting to help take care of his still maturing brother. Annie had grown up lovely her hair long and flowing, going to school to be an art history major. Soon they were back in Wisconsin, living together, something her father wasn't happy with in the least.

Dean Cody had always looked down on Woody as if he were a poisonous bug that had to be squashed quickly. While Woody was know deputy, he still found himself stuck in the same position over and over again, for years. Then came the day, he had enough money, the position in Kewaunee, he could finally ask for Annie's hand, after all, she deserved everything... most of all, she deserved the honor.

He asked Sheriff Cody for her hand, instead of the reaction he had hoped, hoping in this act, he might win some favor with the stout, power hungry sheriff. He found the reaction cold and harsh. "There is no way in hell _you_ are marrying my daughter, she's to good to have a cop for a husband." That's what he told him. It was the straw that broke the camels back. Woody knew Annie would run away with him, without a doubt. But he knew that if she did that, all hopes for her in Kewaunee would be lost, she would shame her family, possibly they would never speak to her again, he knew what it was like not to have a family, he wouldn't do that to her, he loved her too much.

_Open your eyes boy, we made it threw the night_

_Open your eyes boy, we made it threw the night_

So as quietly as he came into Kewaunee Wisconsin, he left. With twelve hundred dollars and a suitcase he went to find himself, running away from the place that only knew him as the orphan kid Hoyt, no future for homeless kids there.

He found himself in Boston, alone and frightened in a town that could fit several Kewaunee's in just the downtown area. And to his surprise he found that he loved it. All the excitement and neon lights, it was so much more fast paced. And he was alone, but not for long. He found a place that didn't know him for what he was, it saw him for what he could be, he didn't tell them, and they didn't ask... soon, he was placed in homicide.

And soon, he was at the mercy of a Whiskey eyed medical examiner. Jordan Cavanaugh, she had spunk, style and grace. She also had a past. Her mother, she couldn't let go, she couldn't move on. It made Woody wonder if he moved on too soon. Maybe there attraction was stemmed from them both seeking redemption from things that were beyond there control. A cruel joke by the Gods at their exspense.

_Lets take a walk on the bridge right over this mess_

_Don't need to tell me a thing, baby, we already confessed_

_And I raised my voice to the air and we were blessed_

He had hidden it so deep, he had seemed to forget, although it chewed at his thoughts constantly. Until the scum of the earth had to bring up a wound that had seemingly healed, but in truth it was festering, waiting to be opened again.

That night he had crossed a thin line, almost killing a suspect was new for him. But the man reminded him of what he could have been if he had allowed it to eat at him. It reminded him of what it could do to people, and how different there reactions could be to seemingly similar things.

He looked at Jordan with something new, she was smiling, talking happily, not noticing that in the time that they had sat down at the big bay window of the small café, snow had fallen softly on Boston, everything muted and soft.

_It's hard to give_

_Its hard to get_

_It's hard to live still I think it's the best bet_

_It's hard to give and I'm never going to forget_

_But everyone needs a little forgiveness_

_Everybody needs a little forgiveness._

Looking back, he saw what he didn't have the guts to remember before. Small things, like a simple smell that can bring back a slew of memories. _He made it. _The city was a difficult place, and he had a hard job, he often thought that he couldn't do. But he worked hard to become who he was, and he had a place here.

"Woody?" Jordan's voce knocked him back to his senses "Woody?!" he jumped back a little, looking into her face. "You okay?"

"We made it threw the night." He said softly, Jordan looked puzzled.

"Woody are you high?" she joked with a chuckle.

"Come on... I have a lot to tell you." He whispered. Maybe forgiveness started with a simple overdue conversation, which could clear a lot of things up. For the first time since he was four, he knew... he wasn't alone.


End file.
